


Avenger Racing Initiative

by TheVexingVixen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Horse Racing, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Equestrian, Except There Isn't Serum Involved, Horse Racing, Horses, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, just a growth spurt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-01-21 00:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVexingVixen/pseuds/TheVexingVixen
Summary: The one where Tony Stark ends up owning a thoroughbred racing farm. Or, alternatively, the Avengers horse racing AU that no one was asking for (but that we all really needed).
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This fic contains poor decision making while drunk. If you squint, maybe dubious consent (both parties are drunk, and no one has regrets). Also, sex between two individuals who are both 17.

Prologue  
(Twenty Years Ago)

Tony groaned quietly as he stepped into the direct sunlight of the grandstand, pausing for a moment and closing his eyes. The aspirin and coffee that he had downed on the four hour trip from MIT hadn’t done a damn thing to help with his headache. If only he’d been able to get another few hours of sleep in the car. He rubbed his forehead, regretting yet again that he’d let his mom talk him into coming to the track today.

Aqueduct was absolutely packed, with individuals from every walk of life crowded into the grandstand. Tony glanced around the box where he was supposed to meet up with his parents: empty. Granted, he was supposed to have shown up several hours ago, but it had been a late night. He had dragged himself away from his workspace as the sun was coming up, knowing that he needed at least a few hours of sleep to deal with Howard. Even now, surrounded by the excitement and excess of the racetrack, Tony’s fingers twitched with the need to get back to work. He was so close – so close – to figuring it out. Yet, here he was, wasting his time on yet another of Howard’s follies.

“Tony, my boy!”

Tony flinched at the booming cry, and then turned to see Obie bearing down on him, the bourbon in his hand sloshing as he wove through the crowd. Obadiah Stane was his father’s business partner and right hand man. Tony wasn’t surprised to see him at the track – Obie was always involved in his father’s side projects in some way. 

Reaching his side, Obadiah threw his arm around Tony’s shoulders, pulling him into a short but forceful hug. Then he stepped back, studying Tony with cheerful, knowing eyes.

“Hungover?”

Tony smiled a little, ruefully, the quirk of his lip acknowledging the appropriateness of the question. On many other occasions, the answer would be yes. However, the thrill of invention had been keeping Tony on the (mostly) straight and narrow for a few months. “This one time, no. I’m just tired. I was up late working on my senior project.” 

“You still researching AI?” Obie asked, taking a sip of his bourbon.

“I’m so close, Obie - I just have to get it all figured out before graduation.” Tony stopped himself before he started going into detail, knowing from experience that Obie wasn’t interested in the nitty gritty of his work. “So, where’s dear ole’ dad? I was supposed to meet him here.”

Obadiah pointed to one of the huge screens decorating the grandstand. On it, horses were being walked around by men wearing numbers, while a variety of individuals stood in small groups watching. 

“You made it just in time, Tony. The horses are just getting ready to head to the track. Your mom and dad are down with the horse and trainer. After all, this is their first big race – they wanted to be a part of the action.”

As Obie was talking, the picture on the screen panned from horse to horse. And when the number seven horse was shown, there were his parents, dressed to the nines and conversing with an older, gruff-looking man. Tony squinted at the saddle pad of the horse his parents were standing near. Under the words “Wood Memorial” was the horse’s name: Avenger.

~

Steve stood awkwardly in the paddock, watching Bucky lead Avenger in circle after circle while listening with half an ear to Phillips and the Starks make small talk. While Steve was often at the track in the afternoons, he much preferred the mornings. Then, there was no pomp and circumstance. There were no women in dresses and brightly colored hats, no men in bespoke suits, and no huge crowds. Instead, the mornings at the track were dedicated to the horses, and to the people who worked with them day in and day out. 

In the mornings, Steve knew exactly where to be and what to do. As an exercise rider, his job was to get on the horses that he’d been assigned to, and work them to the exact specifications of the trainer. On a good morning, Steve would ride seven or eight horses, starting at 6am and finishing before lunch. On not as great mornings, Steve would only ride three or four horses, and then spend time hustling the backside of the track looking for trainers that needed a rider. Either way, he knew what he needed to do.

In the afternoons, Steve’s purpose at the track wasn’t as obvious. He wasn’t a groom like Bucky, so he wasn’t leading the horses to and from the racetrack. He wasn’t a jockey yet, so he wasn’t able to ride in the races. He wasn’t great at picking a winner, so he wasn’t even able to spend his time betting – not that he had the money for gambling anyway. Without a set task, Steve felt aimless and in the way.

However, while Steve wasn’t a huge fan of afternoons at the track, he couldn’t say no when Chester Phillips asked him to be there. First, Phillips was the trainer Steve worked for the most often, and Steve desperately wanted to keep him happy. It had been hard going building a clientele as an inexperienced exercise rider, and Phillips had been the first trainer to give Steve a chance. While he didn’t employ Steve full-time, he threw enough horses Steve’s way that he was able to make ends meet. If Phillips wanted Steve at the races in the afternoon, then he was going to be there. Second, today was Avenger’s first big race with Phillips. While the horse had raced twice before, this was his first race with Howard Stark as his owner, and Phillips as his trainer. That also meant it was Avenger’s first race since Steve started riding him in the mornings. And as awkward as Steve felt, he wanted to be there to see Venge go.

In the year Steve had been riding at Aqueduct, he had mostly exercised maidens and claimers – lower end horses that had never won a race, or who were only able to win against lackluster competition. In the last few months Phillips had put him on a few allowance-level horses when their regular exercise riders weren’t available. But Avenger was the first stakes-level horse Steve had been trusted to ride regularly. For the last month, Steve had been on the horse six days a week. And the few times he’d breezed the horse made him appreciate the difference between this horse and others that he had ridden. While racehorses were exercised every day, they were only asked to run full-speed, or breezed, about once a week. Most horses Steve breezed slowed down by the fifth furlong, or started feeling less fresh and eager. Avenger always felt like he wanted to keep going, and his stride just got bigger and stronger the further he went. 

Steve had been riding for years, ever since he watched his first race on television and saw other short, thin men being celebrated rather than mocked. During that time he’d grown fond of many of the horses that he’d worked with, from the goofy babies fresh to the track to the steady old claimers who taught him how to race ride. But Avenger was the first horse Steve had ever sat on that made him dream of bigger things. And it was obvious that everyone else working around the horse felt the same way. He could see it in Phillips’ eyes when Steve jogged the horse up to him after a workout. He could see it in Bucky’s hands when he groomed Venge – the way Bucky would take extra time to rub his legs each morning, the extra care he put into his wraps. They all believed that Avenger was the real thing, and this race would help to determine that.

Steve looked over at the big bay, who was blowing in excitement at all of the hustle and bustle around him. Since the horses were normally exercised in the quiet of the morning, they always knew when it was race day. Instead of napping in their stalls, they were brought out before a crowd and paraded around before being asked to run longer and harder than they generally went in the mornings. Some horses reacted with trepidation to a change in their routine, and spooked at the loud noises and bright colors of a race day in full swing. So far, while Avenger was alert and on his toes, he wasn’t spooking or trying to bolt. His coat was dry and shining in the spring sunshine, while many of the other horses in the race had started to sweat with nerves. The four horse had already built a full lather of sweat, which was never a good sign – he was wasting his energy before the race even started. 

Bucky looked over and caught his eye, widening his eyes in an expression of “can you believe it?” This was by far the biggest race that he and Bucky had ever been involved in. There were more fans, more finery, and more cameras than they were used to seeing. In fact, the race was being broadcast on television as part of NBC’s Road to the Kentucky Derby.

All of the three-year old horses in the paddock surrounding Steve had a single goal – to make it to the Kentucky Derby. The Wood Memorial would be one of the last chances these horses had of making the Derby field. A first place finish would guarantee a spot in the Derby. The horses that placed and showed might end up with enough winnings to make it, depending on how they had done in previous races. Since Avenger had placed in the Gotham Stakes just last month, he was in a great position. As long as he finished in the top three, he was Kentucky Derby bound for sure.

“Daydreaming?”

Steve jerked his eyes away from Avenger to see Peggy Carter, Avenger’s jockey, standing next to him. He smiled at her, feeling the usual mix of admiration, adoration, and awkwardness bubbling under his skin. Peggy was everything he wanted to one day be. She was a successful jockey, second only to Ramon Dominguez in races won at Aqueduct during the current meet. She was incredibly skilled, with a reputation as a jockey who could finesse a difficult horse around the track. She was also gorgeous, forthright, and waiting for him to answer her.

“Just thinking about the Derby,” he said.

“We’re not there yet, Rogers,” Phillips interrupted before Peggy could respond. “We have to make it through this race first, and god knows, anything can happen with horses.”

Peggy and Phillips then started talking strategy as they walked towards Avenger, with Steve and the Starks following while avidly listening in. Avenger was a stalker, preferring to run right off the lead. Peggy’s job was to urge him forward at the break, angle him towards the inside rail as soon as possible, and tuck him behind the first few horses. Ideally, that is where he’d stay until they rounded the far turn, when they would make their move.

The paddock judge called for riders up, and Phillips gave Peggy a leg up into the saddle while Bucky continued to walk the horse forward. Avenger swiveled his ears back towards her, and Peggy talked to him in a low voice while she got her feet situated in her stirrups. The big thoroughbred arched his neck and began to jig a little with anticipation. He knew his job, and he was ready to run.

The bugler played the Call to the Post, and everyone began to move towards the track. Steve took up position on the other side of Avenger’s head, acting as a second walker just in case Avenger spooked as he moved through the crowds of people towards the track. Peggy continued to talk to the horse, scratching her fingers along the crest of his neck to keep his attention on her. And then they were stepping onto the track. The pony and pony rider swept in, taking Avenger from Bucky and Steve and leading him towards the starting gate. As Phillips and the Howards headed towards their box seats in the grandstand, Steve turned to follow Bucky, who would wait for Avenger by the rail. Win or lose, Avenger would need his groom after the race. While Steve wouldn’t be needed, staying with Bucky sounded infinitely better than spending his time figuring out how to make small talk up in the box.

“Rogers, you’re with me,” Phillips bellowed.

With dismay, Steve turned to follow Phillips into the grandstand. As he trudged behind the trainer and owners, he hoped that the Starks would continue to mostly ignore him. He would just stand quietly in the back of the box, and then escape as soon as it was reasonable to do so.

~

“Tony! I’m so glad you could make it!”

Tony turned away from watching the horses and was swept up into a hug by his mother. He hugged her back, closing his eyes and soaking in the smell of her hair. Even though he felt like being here was a waste of time, it was good to see her. Letting her go, Tony steeled himself and made eye contact with his father, who was standing directly behind Maria.

“Dad.” Tony held out his hand to his father.

“Tony. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you. Your mother missed you.” 

With those few words, Howard turned away from Tony and towards Obadiah, a smile blooming across his face. Maria looked apologetically at Tony, then followed Howard. Tony stood with his hand hanging in the air for a moment longer. Fuck. He was like Charlie fucking Brown with the mother fucking football. Tony let his hand fall and looked towards the two individuals who had come up with his parents. One of them, the gruff-looking man Tony had seen with his parents earlier, grabbed the hand that Tony had just let fall, shaking it firmly.

“Chester Phillips, Avenger’s trainer.”

Tony pulled his hand back, stung by the pity he could see in the man’s eyes.

“Tony Stark. I’m just here to see this four-legged waste of time that my dad is throwing away my inheritance on.”

Suddenly, the tiny blond man standing behind Phillips pushed his way forward. “Excuse me, Mr. Stark, but Avenger is a great horse. I won’t hear anyone say otherwise.” The blond stuck his chin out, his eye flashing. Tony looked him over, a faint smirk on his face. He had to be close to Tony’s age, though Tony had initially thought he was younger because of his height. While Tony was only 5’8”, this guy was several inches shorter than him. He was also incredibly thin, though Tony could see that his arms were lined with muscle.

“And who might you be?” Tony asked.

“Steve Rogers, Avenger’s exercise rider.”

Tony tried to hold his tongue. After all, this kid hadn’t done anything to him. Tony was self-aware enough to know that the anger he felt right now was directed at his father. But Howard was untouchable. Nothing Tony did ever got under his skin. The only emotion that ever broke through the general apathy he held for Tony was disappointment. Meanwhile, this pint-sized blond was buzzing with emotions within 30-seconds of meeting him, holding Tony’s eye as if daring him to say anything else about the horse. Tony never could resist a dare.

“Exercise rider? Aren’t those the people not good enough to actually ride in the races?”

Pint-size lifted his chin even higher, squaring his feet as though getting ready for a fight. “Exercise riders are the people who get up every morning to ride the horses, rain or shine. We’re the ones who know when the horses are not feeling their best, because we sit on them enough to tell when they aren’t moving as well. We’re the ones who teach them how to break out of a gate, and how to wait until the right moment to run. Being an exercise rider is a worthwhile job. Meanwhile, what are you? So far, seems like a bully to me.”

“I’d go with genius playboy billionaire, actually.”

“I know plenty of guys worth ten of you, even without all the money.”

“Rogers, enough. Tony, good to meet you,” Phillips said, pulling Pint-size away from Tony. That left Tony standing alone at the front of the box, his headache now pounding. Fuck, he needed a drink.

~

“Come on, Steve, loosen up a little. We’re going to the Kentucky Derby!” Bucky’s words slurred just a little, a testament to the number of drinks he had consumed since they got to the celebration. Steve toyed with the empty bottle in his hand, picking off bits of the label.

“You weren’t there, Buck. He was so dismissive! It was like I wasn’t even worth talking to.” Steve shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch, feeling the room swim just a little. Maybe he needed to start drinking water instead of grabbing another beer.

“Are you going on about Tony Stark again? Who cares what he thinks? Avenger won! All our hard work paid off. And we are Going. To The. Kentucky. Derby,” Bucky enunciated.

Avenger had run a brilliant race, hanging right off the lead until the final turn, and then blasting by the leader to win by eight lengths. Not only was Avenger now definitely qualified for the Derby, but by winning so decisively, he would likely be one of the favorites to win. By all accounts, Steve should be thrilled. In the past year he had gone from riding any rank nag that he could beg his way onto, to exercising a horse that was going to run in the most prestigious race in the country. He was going to Churchill Downs. He was going to see the twin spires up close, and be sharing the track with some of the biggest names in racing. 

But for some reason, Steve kept going back to his confrontation with Tony Stark earlier that day. He still wasn’t sure why Phillips had wanted Steve to accompany him up into the stands. Phillips seemed to think that Steve would make a good trainer one day, no matter how often Steve protested that he wanted to be a jockey. So maybe Phillips had wanted to impart some sort of trainer-wisdom on him. That had backfired. Phillips still wasn’t talking to Steve, furious at him for the way he had talked to a client’s family member. 

When they first walked into the box, Steve’s eyes were immediately drawn to the brooding figure looking down onto the track. He had grown up seeing Tony in the news. He knew about Tony’s first engine, his first robot, and his first orgy – just like everyone else did. He knew that even though Tony was only 17, he had already been to rehab once. He knew that, according to the media, Tony was nothing but trouble. And yet, while he would never admit it to anyone, there had always been something about Tony Stark that had captivated Steve. He always had this look of mixed swagger and hurt that made Steve wish he could draw. There had been times in his life that Steve had read the coverage of the Starks and thought that what Tony needed was a friend. 

That friend sure as heck wasn’t going to be Steve – that much was now clear. 

Steve had watched Tony’s interaction with his father play out, and had been dismayed. He had wanted to stick up for Tony – to say something to Howard Stark. But before he could think of what that might be, Tony had opened his mouth and started spewing belittling comments, first about Avenger, and then about Steve himself. And Steve had gone from wanting to hug Tony to wanting to punch him in the face. Apparently what they said was true. Never meet your heroes – or the people that you followed from afar and kind of hoped you’d get to meet one day.

“Steve. Steve. Stevie!” 

Steve blinked back into the moment, looking at Bucky once again. 

“He just – he was an ass, Buck.”

Bucky carefully put down his drink and then reached across the couch, grabbing Steve and pulling him into a sloppy, one-armed hug. With his other hand, Bucky drunkenly patted Steve’s head.

“Look Stevie, I know you have a crush on Stark. And I’m sorry he was a tool. But you have to let it go.”

Steve wrenched himself from Bucky’s grasp, shaking his head. “What do you mean, I have a crush on Stark? I do not.”

“Steve, it’s fine. You’ve been buying magazines with the guy on the cover since we were twelve.”

Steve continued to protest. “It’s because I was interested in learning about him. And I felt sorry for him.”

Bucky nodded sagely. “And do you keep the copy of People magazine with all of those pictures of Tony under your bed because of how sorry you feel for him?”

Steve could feel himself start to blush, his ears and cheeks suddenly feeling warm. He didn’t think anyone knew about that magazine. He didn’t use it for what Bucky was suggesting … at least, not exactly. But yes, he maybe had noticed how attractive Tony was. And maybe, in some of Steve’s daydreams, he saved Tony from himself, and Tony then fell head over heels in love with him. 

So maybe he had a little crush. Maybe he had been thrilled when suddenly one of Phillips’ clients was Howard Stark. Maybe he had secretly hoped that Tony was going to be at the race today, and that they would meet. Maybe he had been devastated when Phillips asked after Tony in the paddock, and Howard said that while he had been invited, Tony hadn’t bothered to show up. And maybe when he’d seen Tony in the box, looking a little tired and pale, but still gorgeous, Steve had felt a sudden mixture of nervousness, excitement, and lust. Which had quickly transformed into anger once Tony opened his mouth.

So maybe he had a crush – past tense. That had ended earlier today.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Bucky. End of subject. Forever.”

Bucky reached over to pet Steve on the head again, missing and swiping his ear instead.

“Sure Stevie. No more mention of the Tony Stark crush.”

“Tony Stark crush? Do tell.”

And suddenly, there he was, swaggering and smiling, looking disheveled and like he’d also had too much to drink. Tony looked at Bucky, taking in his lazy sprawl and his bedroom eyes, and Steve could see his interest peaking.

Apparently noticing the same thing, Bucky put the brakes on. “Sorry Dollface, it ain’t me that got the crush.”

Tony tore his gaze away from Bucky and finally seemed to notice Steve sitting next to him on the couch. “Angry Pint-size! Do you have a crush on me?” Tony seemed delighted at the prospect.

All of the blushes that Steve had blushed in his life (and there had been many) paled in comparison to his flush now. Steve’s entire body was on fire. He felt a little faint with it. Forcing his voice steady, he answered Tony, not quite meeting his eye.

“Absolutely not. You’re not my type.”

Tony didn’t look convinced. “That blush says otherwise. I bet it goes all the way down – want to show me?”

Bucky started to laugh. At Steve’s betrayed look, he quickly turned the laugh into a cough.

Tony threw himself down into the small sliver of space between Steve and Bucky on the couch. He turned sideways, so that his head and shoulders were in Steve’s lap, while his legs were across Bucky.

“Come on, Pint-size. I hear you like to ride. Well, I have something for you to ride right here.” Tony gestured to his crotch while winking. Caught up in a mixture of embarrassment and desire, Steve shut his eyes and pushed Tony as hard as he could away from him. Tony slid off of the couch, ending up on floor at Steve and Bucky’s feet. 

Bucky started to laugh again, this time not bothering to stifle it. “Stark, no offense, but that was the worst line I have ever heard.”

Tony looked up at Steve through his eyelashes, smirking. “What do you think, Pint-size? Is it working for you?”

Tony’s eyes, which had looked so sad earlier in the day, now danced with merriment. And despite himself, Steve felt a little warmed by that fact. 

“Definitely not,” he answered Tony, reaching his hand down to help him off the floor. “And my name is Steve.”

~

“Steve, fuck,” Tony swore, gazing up at the blond straddling him. 

Honestly, the last few hours weren’t overly clear in Tony’s mind. He remembered being at his dad’s party, bored and getting drunk. He remembered wandering around the room, hoping to find something (or someone) to occupy his time, and hearing a gorgeous brunette talking about a crush on him. And he remembered the thrill he felt when he realized that the person who had the crush on him was the same guy who not three hours before had been telling him he wasn’t worth anything. He’d decided to show Pint-size how wrong he was. 

But after that, Tony’s memory became spotty. He could remember daring Steve to kiss him, to prove that he wasn’t into Tony. He had been surprised when that had worked, and Steve had leaned in quickly to peck him on the lips. That had led to Tony kissing Steve again, teasingly, biting gently at his lips and licking his tongue across the seam of his mouth before pulling back. While Steve had continued to insist that he didn’t have a crush, and that he was unmoved, his flushed face and tented pants had said otherwise.

He remembered more kisses, Steve becoming bolder as the night went on. And he remembered Bucky telling them to get a room, because he wasn’t interested in watching them fuck right there in the bar. 

But the steps from the bar to Tony’s hotel room existed only in fragments in Tony’s mind. He could see an image of Steve in the back of a taxi, his shirt askew and his lips swollen. He somewhat remembered trying to get the keycard to work in his hotel room door before realizing that he wasn’t even on the right floor, Steve laughing next to him. And then here he was, on his bed, looking up at Steve.

Steve looked back at him, defiant and debauched. “What do you think Tony? Enjoying being ridden so far?”

Tony grabbed Steve’s waist and held him as he canted his hips up, rubbing his cloth-covered erection against him. “What does it feel like to you, Pint-size? Think I’m enjoying it?”

Steve groaned, and Tony couldn’t tell if it was in response to his movements or to the nickname. Regardless, Steve leaned down to capture his mouth in another kiss, moving his body rhythmically against Tony’s. Tony ran his hands down Steve’s legs, feeling the corded muscles of his thighs. While Steve wasn’t a big guy, he was incredibly muscular. Apparently controlling multiple 1200 pound animals a day led to some serious strength.

Wanting to feel Steve’s lower body without his pants in the way, Tony reached for Steve’s belt, trying to undo it while continuing the kissing. He had Steve’s belt open, button popped, and zipper half-way down before Steve suddenly pulled back, looking unsure in the dim light of the room.

“Tony, wait. Before we do anything else, I just want to tell you that I … that I might need a little instruction.”

Tony shook his head to clear it, wanting to focus on what Steve was saying. “Sure, instructions. I’d be happy to tell you what I’m into. And tell me what you like. I aim to please.” Tony grinned up at Steve.

“I’m not sure exactly what I like, Tony. I’ve never done this before,” Steve admitted, looking vaguely ashamed.

The grin fell from Tony’s face. He’d lost his own virginity at thirteen. It hadn’t been a good experience, and he definitely had regrets. He didn’t want anyone to feel the way he had, and especially not this tiny spitfire. Fuck. Tony didn’t want to fuck this up. 

“It’s okay, Steve. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Do you want to stop? Or we can just keep making out.” Tony moved his hands away from Steve’s pants, placing them flat against the bed. “Whatever you want to do, Pint-size.”

The look of shame morphing into one of determination, Steve moved off of Tony’s lap and rolled off the side of the bed. Holding Tony’s eye, Steve pulled his own pants down and off, standing in front of Tony in just his grey boxer briefs.

“I owe you a ride, Tony. Don’t think you’re getting out of it so easily.”

Laughing, Tony reached out for Steve, pulling him back onto the bed and into his arms.

~

Steve woke up, his body deliciously sore. He stretched, marveling at the fact that he hardly felt hungover at all. He couldn’t believe how soft the bed was, and how well he had slept. Of course, he had quite a workout before he fell asleep – that definitely had something to do with it. Steve looked across to Tony’s side of the bed, and realized that Tony wasn’t still there.

Steve sat up, looking around the hotel room. With a sinking feeling, he realized that he was alone. 

On the pillow next to him there was a folded piece of paper. Steve reached for it, his hand trembling slightly. Unfolding it, he read the short note written in a messy scrawl.

“Thanks for a great night, Pint-size. You’re quite the rider – maybe I’ll see you around one day.”

Steve folded the note up again, then sunk back against the pillows. And just like that, Tony was gone from his life.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twenty years later ...

Chapter One  
(Twenty Years Later/ Present Day)

Tony woke to the insistent buzzing of a phone set on vibrate. Keeping his eyes closed, he reached his arm out from under the comforter, trying to find his phone. The nightstand wasn’t the height he had been expecting – he must be in a hotel room. He continued to flail his hand around until he found his phone, and only then did he crack his eyes open to check the Starkphone display. Pepper. 

Not feeling up to talking to his Personal Assistant, he declined the call and closed his eyes again. Jesus he was hungover. The night before had been some charity or another – he couldn’t remember. He also couldn’t remember exactly where he was, or if he was alone. Tony considered opening his eyes again to check for a bed partner, but decided that would be too much work. 

Tony’s phone started buzzing again, and he forced his eyes open. Pepper. Once more, Tony declined the call. There must be somewhere he was supposed to be, or something he was supposed to be doing. Whatever it was, he definitely wasn’t up for being scolded about it until he had about 10 cups of coffee in his system. Though based on how queasy he was feeling, he might be adding a little whiskey to the coffee.

Before he closed his eyes again, Tony glanced around the room. From what he could tell, he was alone. However, judging by the used condom next to the bed, he hadn’t been alone last night. 

As he went to settle back into the bed for hopefully another few hours of sleep, he happened to see his phone’s notification screen. He had 89 missed calls and over thirty voicemails. What the fuck? Scrolling through the missed calls, he saw Pepper dozens of times, but also Obie and several of the board members of Stark Industries. He must have missed something pretty fucking important, though he had absolutely no idea what.

Sighing, Tony pushed himself out of bed as he called Pepper back, slowly making his way to the coffee machine he had spotted on the other side of the massive hotel room.

Pepper answered the phone on the first ring. “Tony, what are you doing? Where are you?” 

Tony looked around for clues as he started the coffee. “Pepper, light of my life. I have absolutely no idea where I am – a hotel somewhere. I’m sure I’ll figure it out soon. So what did I miss? And just how much trouble am I in?”

“Have you turned on your TV yet?” Pepper asked.

“Holy shit, what did I do last night?” Tony asked back, looking around the room for a TV remote. “Did I puke on someone important? Do I want to turn on the TV and find out?”

“Tony, it’s nothing to do with last night. Figure out where you are, call me back, and I’ll come get you. Don’t turn on the TV. Just stay put.”

“Pep, what the hell is going on?” Tony asked, worried. Pepper was normally all for him facing up to the embarrassing situations he got involved in. For her to be telling him not to turn on the TV – he couldn’t even imagine what was going on. He finally found the remote control and turned the TV on, switching until he found the news.

And then he was staring at his parents’ faces, as the scrolling bar on the bottom of the screen pronounced Howard and Maria Starks’ deaths.

~

The next few days were a blur of alcohol and solemn, sad-voiced visitors. Thank god for Pepper, who arranged everything while Tony self-medicated with whiskey every time he started thinking about either of his parents. He refused to be the pathetic man-child who felt some sort of regret about how he had left things with them – especially with his father. Despite both being vital parts of Stark Industries, Tony and Howard had managed not to say more than five words at a time to one another for the majority of Tony’s adult life. 

Maybe Tony should regret that he’d never made good with his father – that they had never mended the divide that had sprung up between them when Tony started talking back at the age of 11, and that had deepened when Tony came out as bisexual at the age of 16. But there were only so many times he could try with someone who didn’t accept him for who he was. So fuck Howard. Fuck him for not accepting who Tony was, and fuck him for dying before he could learn acceptance.

And fuck Howard for leaving Tony with such a mess on his hands. Tony had spent hours upon hours in meetings with Howard’s lawyers, who had explained the various business ventures his father had his hands in. Anytime Howard was the slightest bit interested in something, he’d start spending money. So Tony now owned, among other things, golf courses, hotels, restaurants, shipping companies, and a football team. Most of these businesses were failing, and all of them were huge drains on SI’s resources.

Tony had just come from a press conference, where he had laid out his vision for Stark Industries. He was planning on selling all of the various side-businesses that his father had purchased, and focusing his time and attention on tech development. 

Tony let himself into his father’s office at Start Industries, and then stood for a moment in the dark, looking out through the clear walls into the city below. He hadn’t yet decided what to do with the space. He would prefer to stay in his labs and workshop, where he could continue the breakthroughs and innovations that had kept Stark Industries on the forefront of tech companies over the past decades. Plus, he had few good memories of this particular office, having stood in it several times while his father berated various personal and professional decisions that Tony had made. However, Tony also knew the value of the show – of bringing investors into the immaculate office that dominated the top floor of Stark Tower, and of holding meetings with the city stretched out behind him. Maybe if he had the space completely redecorated, he’d be able to use the office without feeling like he was sharing with Howard’s ghost.

Suddenly, the slight clearing of a throat made Tony aware that he wasn’t alone. He turned towards the noise quickly, peering into the dim space while trying to figure out where the lights were.

“Who’s there?”

A man stepped out of the shadows – a tall black man with an eyepatch. 

“I am Stark Industries,” the man started, quoting something that Tony had said just hours before at the press conference. “Mr. Stark, I’m here to offer you the chance to be part of something more than that.” 

Tony refused to show that he was intimidated by having someone materialize out of nowhere in a restricted area of the Tower. “Who the hell are you?”

“Nick Fury, Director of Stark Racing. I’m here to talk to you about the Avenger Initiative.”

Tony shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Cyclops. And I also don’t have any idea what you’re doing hanging out in my dad’s office in the dark. In a restricted area of Stark Tower, might I add?”

Nick stepped over to the wall behind Tony and switched on the lights, and then walked over to Howard’s desk, taking a seat in front of it and gesturing Tony over. 

“I was waiting to talk to you, Mr. Stark. As to how I was able to get in here – you dad gave me access years ago. I’ve spent a lot of time in this office, talking to your father about Stark Racing. You do know that your father owned a horse racing farm, correct?”

Tony nodded, while grudgingly sitting down in his father’s chair, facing Nick across the large, spotless desk. “Sure. Hard to miss it when reporters would start asking questions about his horses every year around Kentucky Derby time.”

“It was always about the Derby, both for your Dad and for the media,” Nick responded. “Howard would fly me up here once a month or so to talk about how the racing program was going. But no matter what we had going on, the questions always ended up coming back to the Kentucky Derby. He was set on winning it one day.” 

“Well, it looks like that isn’t going to work out for him, doesn’t it,” Tony replied. “If you saw my press conference, then you know I’m selling all of dad’s businesses outside of SI. That includes Stark Racing. From what my lawyers tell me, that racing farm is the biggest resource drain of any of our holdings. They say it’s right in the middle of prime horse country, and that we’ll be able to get a good amount of money for the property. The horses will go to auction in the next few months, and I’m told a few of them might be worth something.”

Nick sat up straighter, looking Tony dead in the eye. “I’m here to ask you to reconsider, Stark. While we’ve never won the Kentucky Derby, Stark Racing has a ton of big wins under its belt. We’ve won grade one stakes races, including Breeders’ Cup races. We’ve qualified horses for the Derby several times, and we’ve placed in the Preakness Stakes. This is a winning operation, and it could be a huge success with a little more time.”

“Then explain to me why the farm is losing so much money. If Stark Racing is as successful as you say, then why has it lost millions of dollars every year?” Tony asked.

Nick looked down briefly, seeming to measure his words before he answered. “Your father was an impatient man. He started with one great horse. After Avenger retired, Howard bought a farm with the idea of breeding him and racing his offspring. But when Avenger’s first foal crop didn’t do well, Howard started buying every flashy yearling offered at the Keeneland and Fasig Tipton sales. If there was a bidding war on a horse, Howard was not only involved, he was winning it. These young horses often cost more than ten million each, and they were untested. Plus, Howard was obsessed with the Kentucky Derby. He only wanted to run two-year olds and three-year olds, trying to qualify them for the Derby. He wasn’t interested in other, more profitable races. He’s had several nice horses. But when they didn’t win the Derby, he would toss them aside and spend big money on the next group of flashy yearlings.

“Your father also got impatient with his trainers when they weren’t winning the races that he wanted them to be winning. He went through big name trainers as quickly as he went through expensive horses. He’d hire them on with huge contracts that he’d end up paying out when he decided they weren’t producing winners.”

Tony was nodding as Nick talked, easily able to see his father’s fingerprints all over the explanation. His dad had always wanted success immediately, and was hugely impatient with anyone that he didn’t feel was helping him reach his goals. It was one of the major reasons that he and Tony had never gotten along – Tony hadn’t been willing to fit himself into Howard’s very narrow ideas of success. 

“That sounds just like Howard. But again, why are you telling me this? Sounds like Dad made a string of bad decisions, lost a ton of money, and then died. That sucks for you, but I’m sure you’ll find work somewhere else.”

“For years, I’ve been trying to get Howard to reconsider how he was allocating resources at Stark Racing. Once Avenger’s first foal crop flopped in their two and three-year old seasons, he stopped breeding the horse altogether, just letting him be retired on the property. But the Bloodstock Manager at the time was convinced that Avenger should be bred to sprinters – so those are the broodmares Avenger was bred to. None of those offspring could make it a classic distance, which is the only thing your father was interested in. They were blazing fast in a six furlong race, but not a single one of them could keep it up for more than a mile.

“I’ve said for years that what we needed to do was breed Avenger to distance runners. I’ve had the bloodlines worked out on this plan, this Avenger Initiative, for years. Instead of pouring our money into horses that other people were breeding, we needed to focus on growing talent at home. And starting a few years ago Howard let me do just that, at least on a limited basis. 

“One of those foals is now two years old, and is showing real promise. He’s the first Avenger offspring with the right bloodlines to win at a classic distance. All he needs is a chance.”

Tony was already shaking his head before the Racing Manager had finished speaking. “I’m just not interested in owning a horse farm. That’s my dad’s dream – it’s not mine. If this two-year-old is as good as you say he is, then it sounds like he’ll make some money at auction.”

Then it was Fury’s turn to shake his head. “No, he won’t. Avenger hasn’t been bred in years – everyone has forgotten about his success twenty years ago. And the two-year-old, Captain America, he only just broke his maiden.”

At Tony’s blank look, Fury explained. “He won a race. Some horses need several tries, but he broke his maiden his first time out, winning by seven lengths. It was an impressive first race, but he wasn’t against elite company. Look, give me a year to turn this farm around. A year from now, if Cap is as special as I think he is, he’ll be running in the big races. Not only will that increase his value, but that will increase the value of Avenger and the other foals from the Avenger Initiative. 

“In the meantime, we won’t be buying expensive yearlings, so our costs will go way down. Plus, I have a trainer in mind that I think we can get without doling out huge amounts of cash. There’s only upside here, Stark. Either I can do what I’m telling you I can do, and you’ve made a ton of money, or you’re in the same place in a year you’re in now. Hell, if we slim down operations a little over the next year, it won’t even really cost you anything. What do you say?”

Tony turned in his father’s chair, looking out once again across the city. He really had no urge to own a horse racing farm. What did he know about horse racing anyway? He’d only been to a race one time in his life.

Tony’s mind drifted back to that day, twenty years before. He remembered being frustrated at Howard, and frustrated overall that he had been pulled away from MIT so close to graduation to spend time with his dysfunctional family. But he also remembered the thrill of Howard’s horse coming in first place. With a start, he realized that it had actually been Avenger that he had seen that day.

In his hazy memory, he also remembered taking a diminutive man back to his hotel room at the end of a night of celebrating, and having a wonderful time. And Tony remembered scrawling a note to the guy and then bolting out of the hotel room the next morning, scared that the man would wake up sober and filled with regrets. It was easier to just leave.

But Tony could also remember how passionately that man had believed in Avenger, and how he had stood up for the horse against all detractors. Pint-size had really believed that the horse was special, and destined for big things. Maybe he had been right.

Tony turned back to Nick Fury and stuck his hand across the desk.

“Okay, deal. You have your year, Mad Eye Moody. I’ll plan to come check the place out in six months or so. Be ready to dazzle me.”

~

“Steve, I want the details – what did he want?” Bucky asked as he burst into Steve’s office, pretty much the moment Steve hung up the phone.

“How did you know I was done talking? Were you standing outside the office with your ear against the door?” Steve asked.

“Look pal, it ain’t every day you’re talking to Nick Fury, okay? Hell yes I was trying to listen in. I would’ve been sitting inside your office blatantly eavesdropping if I thought you’d let me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with the vet about Dum Dum’s tendon? I thought today was the day for updated x-rays and ultrasounds.”

“Already done. Dum Dum’s leg looks great, and he’s ready to be started back under tack and on limited turnout. The vet is pretty sure he’s going to heal up with no limitations. Who knows if he’s going to race again, but at least he’ll go on to have a good career off the track if he can’t. Now, stop changing the subject. Tell me about the phone call.” 

Steve sighed, knowing exactly how Bucky was going to react to what he was about to say.

“Fury offered me a job as Head Trainer of Stark Racing.”

“No, absolutely not. No. Nope. Steve, tell me you aren’t considering the offer. You know what happens to trainers over there.”

“I know what happened to trainers over there when Howard was alive. We all know that Howard was impossible to please. But now that he’s gone, Fury has more control of the day-to-day. So I don’t think I’m going to end up fired in three months when my horse doesn’t win a stakes race.”

“Didn’t Tony Stark just go on TV a few days ago and announce that he’s selling all of his father’s businesses except for Stark Industries? Won’t Stark Racing be sold off in the next few months anyway?” Bucky asked.

Steve held in another sign, knowing that the next bit of information was going to set his friend off even more. “Apparently Fury made a deal with Tony Stark to keep Stark Racing open for one more year, to try to turn the program around. And Fury thinks I’m the trainer to do it.”

“Stevie, are you fucking stupid? I can tell you’re thinking of saying yes. Jesus Christ, you have a great training job now. Are you going to throw that away for a one-year gig at a disaster of a race program? Why? This is about Tony Stark, isn’t it? It took you years to stop being a sad sack about that guy, and now you’re going to throw your life away to go work for him? What’s wrong with you?”

Steve got up from his desk and walked out of his office and into the main barn aisle. Bucky followed, still loudly questioning Steve’s life choices. Steve looked around, taking in the sights and smells of Howling Commando Farm, where he and Bucky had both worked for the last decade. He could hear the horses in their stalls, munching on hay. He could see Dum Dum's big grey head hanging over the stall door, looking inquisitively their way. Yes, he loved it here. While HCF wasn’t a huge racing program like Stark Racing, it was a solid one. 

Steve’s dreams of being a jockey had died when, at the age of 18, he’d hit a major growth spurt. Thank god for Chester Phillips, who had hired Steve as an assistant trainer, teaching him the ropes of race horse training. With the foundation Phillips had given him, Steve had been able to strike out on his own in his mid-twenties and find reasonable success. Since coming on with HCF, he had slowly started building his resume up with stakes wins at Keeneland and Churchill Downs. 

Steve’s success had brought an increasing amount of nice horses his way, as well as several job offers from bigger race programs. He’d considered a few of them, but none had seemed quite right. And this offer definitely shouldn’t be the one he was seriously considering. And yet …

“Fury’s plan rests on the yearlings and two-year-olds that they currently have at the farm. And Bucky, most of those are by Avenger.”

“Avenger? Since when are they breeding that old guy? Last I heard, he’d been standing around doing nothing for fifteen years.”

“Fury bred him to a select few broodmares over the past few years. One of the colts is a two-year old who just broke his maiden. I heard something about him a few weeks ago, but I didn’t realize he was one of Avenger’s.”

Bucky stood next to Steve, watching him carefully. “I know how you felt about that horse. I mean, damn, I loved that horse too. It broke my heart when Stark took him away from Phillips and we weren’t able to work with him anymore. I’d love to see the old guy again – I get it. But Steve, is this really a good idea? Tony Stark?”

“I know I had a bit of a crush on Tony when I was younger,” Steve began.

“Bit of a crush, my ass,” Bucky interrupted. “You were gone on that guy for years before you met him. And you were worse once you hooked up with him. You moped over every story that came out about him until you were what, twenty-two?”

“As I was saying,” Steve started again. “I had a small crush on Tony when I was younger. But I’ve been over that for years. And I doubt I’ll even see Tony – it sounds like he isn’t involved in any way.”

Steve caught Bucky’s eye, then continued. “This is a chance for me to train at one of the biggest name farms in the country, and to work with Avenger’s colts and fillies. Avenger was the first big horse I worked with. It seems right to see if I can help him become as successful of a sire as he was a race horse.”

Bucky sighed, then nodded. “Alright, when do we start?”

“We?” Steve asked.

“Of course ‘we,’” Bucky responded. “I’m with you till the end of the line, Rogers. So let’s go turn Stark Racing around.”


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Tony watched out the window as they passed acre upon acre of rolling green pastures, tucked behind pristine white fencing and shrouded in morning fog. He had never had reason to be in Lexington, and hadn’t expected to find it beautiful. If he was honest, his idea of Kentucky had been something like individuals in overalls holding banjos. The few times he had thought about his father’s farm and the surrounding area, he had expected it to look like farmland always did – flat and boring. But Lexington had so far been scenic, with bent old trees, rolling hills, and stone fences adding to the area’s charm. Though it was a bitterly cold March morning, the sun had just broken through the clouds, starting to burn the fog away. 

“We’re here, boss,” Happy said, pulling the vehicle up to an imposingly large gate with “Stark Racing” curved into the wrought iron. The driver rolled his window down and typed in the code, causing the gate to slowly swing open. And then they were pulling down the long driveway towards the buildings ahead.

Looking around, Tony saw multiple barns, each one with matching grey stone architecture and shining green roofs. There was also a track over to one side, with curving white fencing surrounding it. And all around them were horses – horses in pastures, horses being led, and horses with their heads hanging out of stall windows. It was hard to comprehend that all of this was his. The twenty-seven cars in his garage – they felt like his. Stark Tower, SI, even his parents’ home – all felt like they belonged to him. This place felt like a completely foreign world that he had somehow stumbled into. 

Once Happy parked the car Tony slid out into the chilly morning, his breath clouding the air in front of him. He wasn’t quite sure which building held the main office. He hadn’t told Fury to expect him, enjoying the thought of catching the man by surprise (much as he has surprised Tony in his office several months ago). But as he looked around the many unlabeled buildings in front of him, he acknowledged that there was perhaps a downside to his plan.

Hearing the rhythmic beat of hooves, Tony turned from his study of the barns to watch a horse appear out of the fog on the track, stretched out in a gallop. If you’d asked him early this morning as he boarded his jet, Tony would have told you that he didn’t understand the allure of horses. Now, standing five yards from a horse in full gallop, he once again found himself needing to re-evaluate his previously held beliefs. There was something beautiful about the amount of raw power and muscle attached to the long, slender legs of the animal in front of him. 

The horse rounded the turn and was once again lost in the morning fog, only fading hoof beats remaining. Tony found himself straining to see glimpses of the horse on the far side of the track.

“Mr. Stark”

Tony started, and then turned towards Nick Fury, who was walking towards him across the driveway.

“That was fast, Fury. How did you possibly already know I was here?”

Nick smirked, reaching out to shake Tony’s hand. “I have eyes and ears everywhere on this farm. Now, I’m assuming that you would like a tour of Stark Racing?”

“How about we start with a tour of any part of this place that has heat,” Tony replied, feeling the cold through the coat Pepper had pushed into his hands this morning as he was boarding the jet. 

“This is a horse farm, not a spa. We have heat lamps in several of the barns, but very little of this place is heated. However, it is quite a bit warmer inside of the barns – the horses’ body heat raises the temperature a noticeable amount.”

“Then take me to the barn with the most horses,” Tony stated, pushing his hands into his coat pockets.

Fury, still smirking slightly, led him into one of the nearby barns. Stalls lined either side of the wide aisleway, each one bearing an engraved nameplate. Employees, all wearing matching embroidered black jackets, moved through the space with purpose. Some were grooming, some were cleaning stalls, and some were leading horses out to the large paddocks located behind the barn.

“Alright,” Fury started. “The first thing you need to understand is that Stark Racing is a full service breeding and racing facility. Some farms only breed horses, and others only train horses. Stark Racing does both. While we don’t have a huge breeding program at this point, we do have one stallion and eleven broodmares. Seven of those broodmares are currently pregnant, set to foal any day now. On top of that, we have two foals already on the ground, plus nine yearlings, and dozens of two- and three-year olds.”

“This side of the facility is dedicated to the horses in training. From when they turn two until they are sold or retired, the horses are in training to race. Some of them make it to the racetrack, and others never do.” 

“So what happens to the horses that don’t make it to the track?” Tony asked.

“I have to hand it to your father – he spared no expense making sure that the horses he owned went on to the very best situations if they didn’t show the talent or inclination to race. Any of the horses that the trainers deemed unsuitable for racing were retired into jobs off the track. We work with a local agency that finds the horses homes across the country doing everything from trail riding to eventing to barrel racing. Same with the horses that are injured. Howard would spend the money to rehab their injuries and if there was any question about whether or not they would be sound to race in the future, he’d have them rehomed into a non-racing career. Horses that were not going to be suitable for any future career retired here with us.”

Tony didn’t know how to feel about this information. In some ways it made total sense. Howard was never concerned with money, so of course he had been willing to dump funds into rehoming and retiring horses that weren’t working out. Plus, with all of the horror stories that Tony had run into in just his brief forays into researching the racing industry, he was thrilled that his father was doing it right. Not only was it good for Stark Industries’ image, but Tony much preferred owning a business that was on the right side of history.

However, it stung just a little that Howard would be so considerate of these horses when he could never find it within himself to be considerate of his own family. And it forced Tony to add nuance to his mental image of his father. He couldn’t think of him only as the remote, unimpressed father, or the demanding but never satisfied boss. Howard had apparently also been a caring horse owner. 

Of course, Tony reminded himself meanly, Hitler had loved his dogs.

“Finally dropped by to check out your noble steeds, huh?”

The snarky question pulled Tony away from thoughts of his dad, and he turned to see a scruffy man in purple walking towards them. 

“Noble steeds?” Tony questioned? “Did I inherit a racing farm or a Medieval Times?”

“With all the trick riding we have to do to stay on the young ones, I’m going to say it’s a little bit of both. Plus, this place is definitely fancy enough to be a castle. So the real question is, are you enjoying your tour so far, your majesty?” the man asked slyly, grinning in a way that invited Tony into the joke.

“I am,” Tony replied. “And which peon are you?”

The man laughed and held out a dirty hand for Tony to shake.

“Clint Barton, at your service. I’m one of the exercise riders here.”

“Barton – do you have a minute?” Fury asked. “I have a meeting with breeding staff that starts in a few minutes, and I need to put in an appearance. Can you show Mr. Stark around until I get back?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Clint replied. “Showing the king around his Camelot sounds like a great time.”

Fury sighed, shook his head, and then walked off. Clint waved Tony over to one of the stalls nearby.

“I specialize in the young horses, so I’ll show you some of those to start.”

He gestured at the horse inside of the stall. “This is one of the two-year-olds by Avenger. His name is The Scientist, and he just started real training last month – along with the rest of the two-year-olds.”

Tony looked at the horse, who was placidly eating hay and ignoring them. “The Scientist? Seems like a strange name for a horse.”

“Lots of strange names with racehorses – generally based on their parentage. He’s out of a Smarty Jones mare named Doctor Smarty. I’ll tell you that training on this one has been interesting. He’s normally really easy going, and learns quickly. However, when he gets upset, holy fuck, watch out. He becomes practically unmanageable. Thank god I learned how to fall at an early age, because I’ve ended up on the ground a few times. I’ve started calling him “The Hulk.’” 

“What do you mean you learned how to fall at an early age? What were you, a gymnast?”

Clint smiled. “Close. I worked as an acrobat in a travelling carnival.”

Tony stared in disbelief as Clint moved on to another stall. Had that been a joke? Was Tony supposed to laugh? Or was this guy, apparently on Tony’s payroll, really an ex-carny?

Tony looked into the next stall and saw a truly gigantic horse sprawled across his stall floor, fast asleep. The thing was even snoring slightly.

Clint continued introductions. “This is God of Thunder – he’s another two-year-old by Avenger, out of a Storm Cat mare, Stormy Weather. We call him Thor. He’s a riot to work with – he loves naps, over eating, and running fast. His biggest challenge is that he gets distracted by everything around him – we have a hard time keeping him focused on the track. Plus, he’s so big that he gets in his own way sometimes. I doubt he’ll be ready to race until he’s three.”

Clint moved to the next stall, which looked deserted. Tony peered inside, and then jumped back as a lithe black horse lunged towards him, teeth bared.

“Holy shit, what the fuck is that?”

Barton laughed. “Sorry dude, I should have warned you. That’s Black Widow. She’s another of Avenger’s offspring – a three-year-old. She isn’t the friendliest of horses.”

The filly turned and kicked the door of her stall, then stood with one hoof cocked, ready to strike out again.

“Someone rides that thing?” Tony asked, appalled.

“I do, actually. Along with the young ones, I ride all the tricky ones. She’s going to make one hell of a race horse. She’s fast and she wants to win. Her first race is coming up soon. We would have raced her last fall, but it took her a while to be convinced that she wanted to cooperate with a rider. I’ve found that it’s best to let her make most of the decisions under tack. If you pick a fight with this one, you’re going to lose.”

“So far,” Tony started, “you’ve shown me an unpredictable horse, a clumsy giant pig horse, and an angry killer horse. Do I own any horses that are just, I don’t know, good race horses?”

“The best ones are generally a little quirky,” Clint explained. “All three of the ones I just showed you are well on the way to being fantastic race horses. But if you’re looking for an uncomplicated, knows-his-job kind of thoroughbred, here’s your guy.”

Clint walked to a stall two doors down, and slid the door open. A gleaming red chestnut with white legs and a white blaze walked towards the door and leaned against the stall guard, looming over Clint. Even Tony, who knew absolutely nothing about horses, could tell that this horse was particularly well built. He walked slowly towards the horse, unsure of how close he should get.

“Here,” Barton said, grabbing Tony by the shoulders and turning his body slightly. “You can pet him. He’s a perfect gentleman. But you need to approach him from the side, instead of from the front. Horses can’t see you if you stand directly in front of them, so always make sure you can see one of their eyes when you approach. Keep your hands down low, and touch him on his chest or neck. People always go right for horses’ faces, which can spook them.”

Tony kept eye contact with the one large brown eye he could see as he moved within touching distance of the gleaming chestnut. He slowly raised one of his hands to stroke down the horse’s curved neck.

“Hey, big guy. I’m the one that keeps you in hay, so if you could be on your best behavior, I would really appreciate it,” Tony murmured. He managed not to jump backwards as the horse turned his head and started sniffing Tony’s hands and chest.

“Don’t worry man,” Barton said. “He’s not trying to bite you. He’s just looking for a cookie or a peppermint. He’s quite the favorite around here, so he’s a little spoiled.” 

Tony pushed the big head away from his coat pocket. “Sorry buddy, I don’t have a single horse treat on me.” The chestnut let his head be moved away, but continued to intently watch Tony. And Tony, who was definitely sure he hadn’t given any fucks about horses three minutes ago, found that he wanted to keep interacting with the horse in front of him. 

“So tell me about this one,” Tony asked, while cautiously running his hands along the horse’s face. The horse sighed and lowered his head, his eyes closing slightly.

“This is Captain America, Stark Racing’s great hope. He’s run four times in his life, and he’s been in the money every time against elite competition. He placed second by a head in the Fountain of Youth Stakes just last week. Cap would have been first, but he stumbled coming out of the gate and wasn’t able to make up the distance before the finish line.”

“So the Fountain of Youth – is that a big race?” Tony asked, curious just how good Captain America actually was.

“It’s one of the races on the road to the Kentucky Derby. Cap needs one more good finish in order to qualify. Steve has him pointed towards the Bluegrass Stakes next month. He’s done well at Keeneland before, so Steve thinks it’s a good fit for him.

“Steve?” Tony couldn’t remember hearing Fury mention a Steve before. “Who’s Steve?”

“Steve Rogers is the current trainer. Fury hired him six months ago. He’s out on the track – come on, we can walk out there and I’ll introduce the two of you.”

Tony regretfully stepped back from Cap so Barton could close the stall door. “I promise, next time I see you I’ll have some sort of treat,” Tony told the horse.

“As I said, spoiled,” Barton remarked, latching the door and then leading Tony out of the barn.

Tony followed Clint up to the curving white fences of the training track. The morning fog had finally burned away, allowing Tony to see the entire expanse of the track. Currently there was only one horse and rider out – probably the same horse he had seen earlier. 

As the horse jogged towards him, Tony started paying attention to the man on his back. In the last several decades, Tony had spent time with some of the most beautiful people alive. He had been dating supermodels since he was in his teens. Hell, even his PA was gorgeous. That said, the rider coming towards him was a work of art. From his strong jaw and blond hair peeking out under the helmet to his broad shoulders and long legs, every part of him was perfection.

Tony took a moment to mentally compose himself as Clint waved the horse and rider over. 

“Tony, this is Stark Racing’s trainer, Steve Rogers,” Clint said as the man – Steve – dismounted. Tony watched as he pulled his helmet off and ran his hand through slightly sweaty hair, pushing it off his face. Tony held out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Tony Stark. It’s great to meet you.”

Steve smiled slightly and shook Tony’s hand. “Actually, we’ve met,” he said. “Several years ago.”

Tony flashed a flirty grin, and let his fingers trail against Steve’s slowly as he drew his hand away. “There is absolutely no way I’ve met you before. I’d never forget someone who looks like you.”

Steve’s blue eyes turned steely. “You know, I just might believe you on that one. My mistake.” He turned to Barton. “I need to look after Avenger. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Without saying another thing to Tony, Steve clucked to the horse behind him and walked away.

Beside him, Clint whistled. “Holy shit, man, what was that? Steve is normally Captain Politeness, and he couldn’t wait to get away from you. What did you do to him?”

Tony watched Steve walk back towards the training barn, wracking his brain for a time they might have met, or something that he might have done to the man. “While I’ve possibly been black out drunk a time or twenty, I can’t imagine that there’s any amount of alcohol that was cause me to forget him. Are you seeing his ass in those breeches? Absolutely unforgettable.”

Clint laughed, shaking his head. “If you say so, Stark. Come on, let me show you around the rest of this place.” 

They started heading for another of the immaculate buildings, with Barton occasionally pausing to point out a particular feature of the property. Tony was half listening, half replaying the very brief conversation with Steve. While he was sure he’d never met the man before, he also couldn’t figure out what he had said to cause offense in such a short interaction. The guy had ridden up on some horse, said a few words, and then left in a huff.

“Wait a minute,” Tony said, “did he say Avenger? As in the horse that retired from racing decades ago? Is that who he was riding?”

Clint nodded. “Yes, that was your breeding stallion, Avenger. He’s in his twenties now. Steve rides him several times a week after the horses in training are done for the day.”

“But why?” Tony asked. “What good does that do?”

“It’s good for the old guys to let them stretch their legs occasionally,” Clint explained. “It keeps them healthier longer. Plus, Steve apparently worked with Avenger back in his racing days. Before he was a trainer he did some exercise riding, and Avenger was one of his horses.”

Tony stopped in his tracks. “Wait, what? I met Avenger’s exercise rider the one time I got dragged to the races. He was a little guy with a big mouth. Absolutely nothing like that guy.”

Though it had been years, Tony could still picture Pint-size. His tousled blond hair and strong arms, his slim hips and enticing blush – all were etched in Tony’s mind. Yes, Pint-size and Steve were both blond, and yes, he seemed to remember that Pint-size was actually called Steve, but so were half of the white guys Tony knew. Pint-size would have had to have the mother of all growth spurts in order to be Steve’s size. Plus, they really didn’t look that similar, right?

Tony took his mental image of Pint-size and added six inches of height and a hundred pounds of muscle. Then he aged him twenty years. What he ended up with looked a lot like the trainer who had just walked away.

“Fuck!”


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

“Tell me again why we’re here, Tony,” Pepper asked, walking next to him through the backside of Keeneland Race Course. She deftly stepped around a pile of manure in her stiletto heels, then continued forward at her typical brisk pace, seemingly not slowed down at all by the uneven footing.

“I told you, Pep,” Tony replied, “We’re here to watch one of my horses run her first race.”

Pepper shook her head, then ducked to the side to avoid the spray of a hose from a groom washing out water buckets. “Tony, you’ve owned this racing operation for seven months, and you haven’t seen any of your horses run so far. Your father owned the farm for twenty years before that, and I don’t think you ever watched any of his horses run. In fact, you told me repeatedly what a waste of money and time the whole thing was. I’m fairly sure the phrase “rich men’s My Little Ponies” came up more than once.

“Seven months ago you decide to sell all of your family’s businesses other than Stark Industries – and yet, a few days later, you tell me you aren’t selling Stark Racing. Then a few weeks ago you drop everything to visit the farm, and you’ve been even more distracted than usual ever since then. Not to mention that instead of talking to your Race Manager to find out when one of your horses was racing, you had me search race entries until I found one of yours, and then set up tickets and passes for us. Now we’re walking around the backside of a track, with only the vaguest idea of where we are going. So once again – why are we here? What’s going on?”

Tony kept walking, avoiding her eye. Pepper wasn’t wrong – he had been distracted over the past few weeks. Ever since he left Stark Racing three weeks ago, he’d been thinking about Steve.

Once he had realized why the trainer had stormed away, Tony had searched the barns trying to find him and explain himself. He hadn’t been planning to apologize, exactly, but he did want the man to know that no, Tony hadn’t forgotten the time they had spent together. But Steve couldn’t have expected him to realize that the tiny spitfire who he’d spent a night with decades ago was the same man as the giant, ripped Adonis in painted-on jodhpurs.

However, Steve had been gone. Instead, learning against the office door with his arms crossed, had been a tall, long-haired man who had looked vaguely familiar to Tony. 

After racking his brain, Tony had placed the man as Steve’s friend from the post-race party so many years ago. Brady or Benji or something like that. Tony remembered bedroom eyes and a hilariously crude sense of humor. This man was still gorgeous and crude, but he was also angry and fiercely protective of Steve. And he was very clear that Tony was something that Steve needed to be protected from.

“I knew this was a mistake,” were the first words the man said to him, glaring from the doorway. “As soon as I heard that Steve had that phone call set up with Nick Fury, I knew no good could come of it. But that jerk has never made a smart decision when it comes to you, so here we are. 

“I don’t know what you just did to him, but Steve came in mad as hell and then left in a hurry as soon as Avenger was taken care of. He never leaves during the day when he can stick around and make cow eyes at all the horses. And then I find out that you’re skulking around the property, and it all makes sense.”

Tony bristled at his accusatory tone. “I’m not skulking around the property. I own the property. And I didn’t do anything to Steve. I just didn’t immediately connect the dots between the guy I met twenty years ago and my current horse trainer.”

Brody (or Buddy, or whoever the fuck) had face-palmed. “You didn’t remember him. Great. Nice to know that the poor schmuck was pining over you for years, and meanwhile you didn’t remember he existed.”

In the moment, Tony had been suddenly furious. “Look, Barry, your friend doesn’t look even a little bit like the short-stack that I hooked up with. One time. Decades ago. Who the fuck remembers all of their drunken hookups, anyway?”

“It’s Bucky, you prick. And you weren’t just a drunken hook up. You were the guy Steve had been idealizing from afar for years that suddenly showed up in his life, took his virginity and then bailed on him the next morning!” 

By the end of his statement, Bucky was yelling. 

Tony had refused to back down. “If he had a crush on me, that sucks, but that’s not my fault. I showed him a good time, I left, and now here we are. We’re both adults, and I’m sure we can work together.”

Bucky started shaking his head. “No, absolutely not. You will stay the fuck away from Stevie, do you hear me? I don’t give a fuck that I work for you. You need to steer clear of Stark Racing for the next few months, until this year-long experiment of yours is over. Have you even thought through what this whole thing will mean for the people who work here? We’re busting our ass, and I doubt many of your employees know that in five months we’re all out of a job when you sell this place for a huge profit that you don’t need. 

“Meanwhile, Steve gave up a great job to come train for you, and I followed the punk, because that’s what I do. He’s going to win big races for you, because that’s what he does. Then he’ll be out of a job while you’re sitting in your tower counting your money. So since your big plan is to fuck him over, if you could do that from a distance, that would be great. I don’t need you hanging around making things worse.”

With that, Bucky had stormed into the office, slamming the door behind him. Tony had stared at the door for an embarrassing length of time, weighing his options. Did he try to continue the conversation? Fire the guy, who apparently worked for Tony in some capacity? Walk away and pretend like the whole thing hadn’t happened?

Tony had eventually chosen to walk away, getting back into his limo and letting Happy take him back to the airport. But he had been thinking about the conversation in the weeks since it had happened. He had been thinking about all of the people working at Stark Racing, some of whom had been there for years. He had been thinking about the other businesses he had sold off, without giving a thought to the people who might be impacted (other than himself). And most of all, he had been thinking about Steve.

Honestly, Steve had been on his mind for more than the last few weeks. Ever since he had agreed to keep Stark Racing, he had occasionally wondered about the exercise rider than he had connected with so many years earlier. His monthly meetings with Fury, which were often filled with discussions of Avenger and his progeny, inevitably brought memories of his one horse racing experience to mind. Which then led to thinking about Steve, in a vague and pleasant way.

But since talking with Bucky, Steve had been on his mind in a very different way. Instead of a pleasant, fleeting though about a fun-filled night, Tony was now viewing their interaction in a different light. He couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t known Steve had a crush on him – that had been part of the allure in the first place, finding out that the boy who had been so verbally dismissive of him actually been into him. And he had also known that he was the first person Steve had ever had sex with, and had tried to make sure the experience had been good for Steve. 

Yet, when Tony had woken up the next morning, he started thinking about the vitriol that Steve had expressed for him the day before, when sober. He didn’t want to be around if Steve woke with regrets, so it had been easier to just leave. He had gotten into the car he’d sent for and mentally moved on, delving right back into his AI project. He had never paused to think that Steve might not have moved on so easily. 

Tony found himself experiencing an emotion that he didn’t have a lot of experience with – regret. After spending too much time thinking about the whole thing, he’d come up with a plan. He was a horse owner now, and he’d never seen his own horses run. So he would head to the track on race day and watch one of his horse’s go. And maybe he would run into Steve at the track, and he could explain himself. But he hadn’t wanted to let Fury know, because he was sure that Fury would tell Steve to expect him – which might have ended up with Steve sending an Assistant Trainer in his place. Hence Tony asking Pepper to arrange everything somewhat covertly. And now here they were, trying to find the right barn in the bustling track backside. 

“Tony, seriously, just tell me,” Pepper implored.

Just then, Tony saw the Stark Racing logo hanging from the next barn over. And sitting on a folding chair in the aisle way was Steve, his eyes shaded with sunglasses and his head tipped back. With his long legs stretched out in front of him and his hair gilded in sunlight, he looked unfairly gorgeous.

Tony abruptly stopped walking forward, unsure of his next step. Pepper stopped next to him, and then followed his gaze.

“Oh, Tony. Is he what this is about?” She shook her head at him in exasperation, then started forward again, headed straight for Steve. Tony trailed after her, wishing he had come up with a plan beyond “find Steve, explain himself.”

As they got closer, Steve stood and pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head. His expression, open and polite as he gazed at Pepper, closed once he saw Tony following her.

“Mr. Stark. What do I owe the honor?” Steve’s tone of voice made it clear that that he viewed the meeting as nothing of the sort.

Pepper thrust her hand toward Steve. “Hi, I’m Pepper Potts, Tony’s Personal Assistant. Tony and I wanted to come and see the horses run. And you are?”

Steve politely shook her hand, a smile that looked more like a grimace gracing his face. “I’m Steve Rogers, ma’am. I’m the Head Trainer for Stark Racing. It’s great that you both were able to come out. Your horse will be running in a few hours.”

“Is this the horse?” Pepper asked, gazing in to the stall behind Steve. Tony could just make out a dark shape in the very back of the stall.

“Yes ma’am, this is Black Widow. This is her first race, and so far she’s been a bit unsure of how she feels about life at the track. So I thought I’d sit with her until it was time to take her over to the paddock.”

Pepper started to drift towards the stall, and Steve blocked her with his body. “I wouldn’t get too close to this one – she can be pretty feisty. But she’s in tip-top shape and ready for this race. If I were a betting man, I’d put money on her to win her race today. And then it will be on to bigger and better races for her.”

“Races like the Kentucky Derby?” Pepper asked.

“No, ma’am. It’s too late for Black Widow to qualify for the Derby – there isn’t enough time between now and the first Saturday in May to get her the points she needs. She’s getting a late start because she needed a little extra time to develop. But I’m guessing that she’ll be a Breeders’ Cup horse by the fall, if all goes well.” 

Steve then paused and momentarily closed his eyes, causing his long blond lashes to sweep his cheekbones. Tony heard Pepper inhale next to him, and felt a moment of triumph – at least he wasn’t the only one thrown by Steve’s good looks.

Steve opened his eyes and shook his head. “Of course, you all will be out of the racing business by fall, so maybe you won’t still be interested in her. But she’s a special horse, so I’m guessing that whoever ends up owning her will point her to the Breeders’ Cup.”

Steve then held out his hand again to Pepper. “It was great meeting you, Ms. Potts. You both are welcome to come down and see Widow in the paddock before the race – just promise me you’ll stay back if I ask you to. You never quite know how a maiden horse will handle their first race – sometimes there’s a little bit of excitement. But now I need to get my crew together to start prepping her.”

Pepper shook his hand once again, this time letting her hand linger in his for just a moment. “We’ll be there – won’t we Tony?”

Steve’s gaze snapped to his, and his shoulders tightened as he straightened up to full height. The move was so similar to how Pint-size had approached him the first time they met that Tony was flabbergasted that he could have ever missed that Steve and Pint-size were the same person.

“Yes, we’ll be there,” Tony affirmed. He thought about leaving it there, and letting Steve get on with his job, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself – he needed to clear the air with this man. “Steve, I just wanted to say that I’m …”

Steve cut him off. “Mr. Stark, I really need to get going.”

“It’s Tony, please. And talk to me after the race – please. I think there are some things we should discuss.”

Tony found himself holding his breath as he waited for Steve’s answer. After a moment, Steve seemed to deflate just a little, and he inclined his head. “Okay Tony, we can talk after the race.”

With that, Steve turned and opened the door to Black Widow’s stall, clucking softly as he slid inside. Tony watched after him for a moment, and then started heading towards the grandstand. He needed a drink.

Pepper stayed silent by his side as they made their way from Keeneland’s backside to the grandstand. However, Tony could feel her eyes on him, and knew that the questions would eventually start. Once they were seated in the clubhouse, drinks in hand, Tony decided to beat her to the punch. He started in on the story, eyes on the table.

“Long story short, I met Steve twenty years ago at the one horse race I ever went to. We fought, then we flirted, we got wasted, and we fucked. I left the following morning and didn’t see him again until three weeks ago when I found out that he’s now my horse trainer. I didn’t recognize him at first, which isn’t my fault – he looks totally different now, Pep. And I maybe hit on him before I knew who he was.” 

Tony ran out of words, and continued to gaze at the table, running his finger absentmindedly around the rim of his cocktail glass.

“Oh, Tony. I get why this is awkward for both of you. But I was expecting something way worse. If you only met once, it isn’t a huge surprise that you didn’t remember him – you meet so many people. 

“It gets worse. And after he stormed off I found out from one of his friends that he had a thing for me back in the day and that hooking up with me made it worse. And apparently leaving him with a note the next morning wasn’t the best move ever. And I was kindof his first. Sooo …”

Tony looked up just in time to catch Pepper’s wince. 

“Okay, yes, you’re an ass, Tony. But honestly, knowing your reputation, I doubt he was surprised. My question is – why are you so hung up on this? Not to put too fine of a point on this, but you do worse things all the time. How many times have you had me be the one to deal with your morning afters?

Now it was Tony’s turn to wince. Fuck, he really was an ass. 

“I don’t know, Pepper. I just feel bad about this one. The kid I knew twenty years ago was really something. And Steve Rogers now is still really something.”

Pepper shook her head at him. “He’s pretty – I’ll give you that. But you know you can’t get involved with him, Tony. He works for you. Plus, you’re going to be making a lot of decisions about Stark Racing in a few months, and starting a relationship with him will just make that more difficult.”

~

Steve and Bucky stood next to one of the towering sycamores in Keeneland’s paddock, watching as a groom led Black Widow. She looked acutely aware of the crowd around her, with her ears pricked forward and extra energy in every step. Steve thought that in this moment she looked an awful lot like Zenyatta, one of the all-time great race mares. Of course, Zenyatta had been a giant at 17.2 hands high, so more than a hand taller than Widow. Plus, Zenyatta had a pronounced white stripe down her face, where Widow was solid black, without a white hair to be seen. But both horses had a way of moving that made them seem like predators, rather than the prey animals that they actually were.

“I think she’s going to do it,” Bucky said, closely watching the filly as she circled. One of the horses a few spots over started whinnying loudly, causing Widow to stop short and snort, then give a few bucks. Yet, once the filly realized that there was no reason to be concerned, she began moving forward again with her handler’s coaxing, her coat only lightly sweaty. 

“If she can make it through the first ten seconds unscathed, she’ll win,” Steve responded. Black Widow was not a fan of the starting gate, and very much not a fan of other horses in her personal space. So the start of the race, where multiple horses would likely end up bunched up and on top of one another, would be a challenge for her.

“I think you mean if the horses around her make it through the first ten seconds unscathed,” Bucky laughingly replied. Steve grinned in response. Widow was a fighter for sure. She often reacted to new situations with teeth bared and ready to attack. But she loved to run even more than she loved to fight, so Steve was sure she’d come through the race on top. 

He was eyeing the rest of the horses in the paddock when he noticed Tony heading towards them with Ms. Potts beside him. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Bucky asked, his hand suddenly on Steve’s wrist like he needed to hold Steve back from – what? Running up and punching Tony in the face for not remembering him? Running up and begging Tony to remember him – the way Steve had always remembered, had held on to that memory in the twenty years since?

“Black Widow is his horse, Bucky. He’s allowed to be here. There are a ton of owners in the paddock right now.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky spat. “Tony hasn’t been at a single one of his horse’s races since he took over Stark Racing. He wasn’t there when Cap won the Fountain of Youth, and it doesn’t get much bigger than that. So there’s no reason for him to be here to see Widow run today. He’s here because of you.”

“I’m his head trainer. He’s allowed to speak to me as well.”

Steve knew Bucky and Tony had spoken when Tony had come by the farm, though Bucky had refused to say anything about the conversation. After calming down that day, Steve had started to feel bad about his behavior. He had been inexcusably rude to the man who signed all of their paychecks. Because, in all honesty, Steve knew that he looked completely different. He also knew that there was a difference between him remembering Tony – when Tony had been a constant media presence for over three decades – and Tony remembering him, a drunken one-night stand whom he hadn’t seen before or since. 

Steve knew he needed to start over with Tony – act like the professional that he absolutely was. He had considered reaching out to Tony a few times over the past few weeks, just to clear the air. But it turned out that he had needed that time to bury a hope he didn’t even know he’d been holding onto – until Tony’s eyes had raked across his body, appreciative and without an ounce of recognition.

But now, it was time to be the professional, and not the teenager with a crush.

“Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts,” he said, moving forward to meet them, Bucky still grumbling beside him. “Black Widow is doing great so far. We’re getting ready to walk her over for riders up. You’re welcome to come along.”

Indeed, the horses had all started to walk towards the other end of the paddock, where fans surrounded a big oval walkway. Steve waved to the groom walking Widow to start heading in that direction, and then started moving that way himself, a careful distance away from the filly. Tony, Pepper, and Bucky all followed, with Tony and Bucky seemingly in a staring contest with one another. Steve internally sighed, and turned his attention to Tony’s PA. 

“Ms. Potts, this is your first time at the races, correct?” he asked.

“Call me Pepper, please,” she responded. “And yes, this is my first time.”

“So the jockeys are about to come down and mount up. From there, the horses will head over to the track and warm up. Then it’s post time.”

“Who’s Black Widow’s jockey?” Tony asked, pulling his attention away from glaring at Bucky.

“Here she is right now,” Steve responded, seeing the line of jockeys making their way into the paddock. He gestured Widow’s jockey over, and then made introductions.

“Tony Stark, Pepper Potts – I’d like to introduce you to Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow’s jockey.”

Natasha smirked in their direction, nodding at their greetings. Then, her version of pleasantries done, she focused back in on Steve.

“How’s our girl?” she asked, before focusing in on the filly in question.

“Alert. Ready. On her toes.”

“Perfect,” Natasha responded. “I think she and I are going to have fun today.”

Steve smiled at the redhead in front of him, thinking that only Natasha would describe riding a tricky filly in a maiden race as “fun.” Unpredictable, frantic, scary – those were maybe some of the words other jockeys would have used. But not Natasha – she seemed to thrive on the difficult horses, and the challenging races.

Steve and Natasha had met several years before, when he was an up and coming trainer and she was just getting her start as a jockey. Other trainers had shied away from using her – both because of her brusque manner, and because of the ingrained misogyny that permeated thoroughbred racing. But Steve, who had never met a jockey more capable than Peggy Carter, had no problem hiring a woman to ride his horses. And not only had Natasha ridden them –she had consistently won.

Over the years, Natasha had developed a reputation for two things. One, she could ride anything, no matter how difficult. Two, she was always able to find an opening between horses to slide her own mount through. Even when it looked like there was an impenetrable wall of horses in front of her, she’d somehow find a way to make it through. Other jockey’s had taken to calling her “the assassin” because of the way she would sneak up and through a field before taking everyone down.

Steve and Natasha went over their plan once more, and then it was time. Bucky took Black Widow’s head as Steve tossed Natasha up onto her back. Immediately the filly twisted and crow hopped sideways, before popping up into the air in a partial rear. Bucky cursed and held on while Natasha sat, soft and still on her back, laughing at the horse’s antics. 

Steve backed away as Bucky continued to walk to filly, then turned towards Tony and Pepper. “Why don’t we head up to the box to watch the race?” he suggested. They both nodded, and he led them through the grandstand to Stark Racing’s box. 

Once they were settled, Steve turned his attention to Widow, who was warming up with the other horses. While she continued to look very alert, Steve was pleased with how she’d done so far. No matter how many times you schooled a horse on the track and in the gates, you never knew how they’d do at their first race. Widow was thus far handling herself better than he had expected.

“So I’m assuming there’s some sort of game plan,” Tony asked, interrupting Steve’s intense scrutiny of the filly. Steve looked over at him, allowing himself to really focus on the man for the first time that day. He looked good, in a suit and shades, his hair stylishly tousled.

“Absolutely, Mr. Stark. Every horse has a different running style, which is modified to fit the individual race being run that day.”

“It’s Tony – I thought we’d already been over this,” Tony said, leaning towards him in the tight confines of the box. 

“Right, Tony,” Steve corrected himself. “As I was saying, there’s a plan for every race. Of course, it can all absolutely change once the gates open. Especially in a maiden race.”

“Why is that,” Pepper asked from Tony’s other side, eyes tracking the horses as they made their way to the gate.

“In a maiden race, you often have multiple horses that have never raced before. So it can be difficult to create a strategy when you don’t know the running styles of the horses you’re racing against. Plus, the horses are more likely to do something unexpected, like jump sideways when the gates open, or blow the turn and end up next to the grandstand instead of on the rail where you want them.”

Across the track the horses were being loaded into the gates. Widow would be one of the last horses loaded, which was ideal. The less time she had to wait in the starting gate, the better. Steve found himself holding his breath as the filly was loaded, letting it out slowly as she made it in with very little hassle.

Suddenly the gates clanged open and the bells sounded, while the announcer gave the traditional cry of “and they’re off.” Widow was out of the gate quickly and cleanly, but Natasha held her back, rather than letting her jump into the middle of the fray. Steve had found during the six months that he’d been working with Black Widow that she did best as a closer – trailing for most of the time and then surging to the lead at the end. If she ran in the middle of the pack she’d start to focus too much on the other horses, thinking about fighting rather than running. And if she was in the front for too long she’d get bored and lose focus. But put a challenge in front of her and Black Widow would run her heart out.

Around the first turn Widow was next to last out of the eight horses, with a few lengths between her and the last place horse. Natasha had her right on the rail, and she had settled well, not fighting her jockey’s hold on her. Meanwhile the first two horses in the race where in a speed duel, laying down sub-12 second fractions. That was perfect for Widow – it meant that they most likely would tire each other out before the finish, allowing Widow to sweep in at the end.

As they rounded the far turn, Steve saw Natasha drop lower over Widow’s neck, asking her to pick up the pace. They shot through a narrow opening between two horses, and then Natasha guided the filly over to the rail, asking her to squeeze between the rail and the third place horse. Steve again held his breath, worried that Widow would lose her focus on the race and focus instead on the horse practically touching her instead. But as though she had been doing it her whole life, Widow pushed through the opening without hesitating and was then in the clear, chasing down the dueling leaders.

Beside him, both Tony and Pepper were on their feet. Pepper was standing still as a statue, her hands clasped together, staring intently at the horses. Tony was repeating “come on, Widow” under his breath over and over as the horses made their way to the finish line. 

As Steve had expected, the two horses in the lead were starting to slow, and Black Widow was able to overtake them. But another horse – the horse that had been dead last at the start – had also made a move, and was coming up on Widow’s outside. Steve saw Natasha push her hands into the filly’s neck, asking her for more speed. And just like that – the race was over. Widow seemed to drop into another gear, pulling away from the other horses so quickly that it looked like they were standing still. 

Pepper and Tony were both screaming as Black Widow crossed the finish line two lengths in front of the next horse. Steve couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face, thinking back to the last time he’d watched a race with Tony. 

“Congratulations, Tony. It seems like you’re good luck to Avenger and his offspring.”

Tony put Pepper down from the swinging hug that he had swooped her up in when Widow crossed the finish line. He turned to Steve, laughing. 

“That was amazing! She was amazing!”

“You have a great horse there, Tony.” Steve held his hand out for Tony to shake. Tony grabbed it, but instead of shaking it, he pulled Steve in to him. 

“Oh, come on, Pint-size,” Tony said before he kissed Steve on the mouth. Before Steve could react Tony pulled away, eyes laughing up at him.

Steve needed to steer them all down to the winner’s circle. But all he could do was stare at Tony, brain working through the implications of what Tony had just said. “You remember?” he asked, as individuals all around their box started calling out their congratulations on Black Widow’s win.

Tony kept smiling at him, kept holding on to his hand. “Of course I remember. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you instantly – but of course I remember you. You’re the reason I kept Stark Racing in the first place! Now come on – I think there’s somewhere we’re supposed to be right now.”


End file.
